


Behind the Lines

by Nelle816



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18425796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelle816/pseuds/Nelle816
Summary: What you feel, what you do, what you think and what you actually say can all be very different things.





	Behind the Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Four alternating POV snippets of scenes from the pilot. Just my interpretation of what was going on behind those brief conversations.

**Back from Baghdad.**

Michael knew when Alex was deployed overseas.  He knew when Alex was injured. He knew when the purple heart and other decorations were bestowed upon the young veteran.  These event were published in the Roswell newspaper. Michael had clipped them all out and stuck them into the back of the old school composition book that contained his earliest research notes.

He was in the Wild Pony when some airmen and old classmates told Maria that Alex had been stationed in Roswell and would be coming home for the first time in nearly a decade.  He’d overheard her plans to organize a welcome home parade. Later Michael hustled $100 out of a tourist playing pool at one of the other bars. He’d snuck it into Maria’s parade fund coffee can later that night, knowing that if he gave it to her directly, she’d put the money toward his tab.  

Michael had even watched the parade, though not from the sidewalk.  He’d skulked along the alleys and side streets off Main to follow Alex as he rode on the back of a convertible. He’d seen Alex around town a couple times since then, but he never let himself look for very long, and he always turned around and went in the opposite direction. Luckily Alex never came into the Wild Pony.  Most of the Airmen hung out at O’Malley’s with the cops and firemen.

The wind was kicking up the dirt the day he’d pulled into the ranch to find it swarming with Humvies and uniformed men. He was too blinded by dust and anger at the uniform trying to peek in his windows to notice the crutch.  

_ 'Hey!  That’s private property…Alex.' _

He’d taken a good look then, thinking that might be his only chance.  It was obvious Alex hadn’t missed him, so he threw up his best deflector shields; words intended to sting and keep people at arm’s length from him. If they didn’t get close, they couldn’t hurt him. He’d said those words, and then he’d slammed the door in Alex’s face rather than see the pain there.  He felt dirty. He pulled off his shirt, but it was more than just the dust.

 

**What are you doing in this trailer?**

Alex had shown up, as ordered, to inspect the potential property and put the paperwork in order.  Mr. Foster’s name was on the deed and the older man said he’d tried calling his tenant, but didn’t get an answer. Alex had pulled out a notepad and started collecting information for his report.  License plate numbers, name of tenant… When old Mr. Foster rattled off Guerin’s name, Alex was proud that he hadn’t reacted. Instead Alex looked over the property again with a more critical eye. Fire ring, rusty lawn chairs and gas cans. Beer bottles, a makeshift kitchen under and awning with a cooler, grill and makeshift table. Guerin had obviously been living out here for a while. Later, when Alex circled the trailer, he’d found a few inventions that pointed to the tenant being a mechanical engineer. Definitely Michael Guerin.

Why hadn’t Michael left town. He’d had a full ride scholarship and an engineer’s brain.  He should have been designing rockets or self driving cars for Elon Musk in silicon valley. He shouldn’t be living in an Airstream and rigging up solar powered water heaters from junkyard parts.  But the latter was certainly what Alex was looking at. 

By the time Michael had grabbed his arm and whirled him around, Alex was brimming with questions. He could barely decide what to ask first. Alex had seen many a soldier and airman struggle to complete training. He’d seen his encryption unit scraping by for intelligent candidates. He knew how smart Michael Guerin could be and how many lives he could save or improve if given the opportunity, but here he was squandering what he’d been given. Alex, mind swirling with anger and confusion at the waste and body reacting to Michael standing so close he could smell him, could only come up with one question. What are you doing in this trailer? It sounded dumb to his own ears even as he asked it. 

 

**You’re wasting your life, Guerin.**

Alex spotted Michael lounging in a chair at the reunion dance. He watched him talk to the dark haired girl who was too young to be in their class and was wearing the subtle uniform of the caterers. Again the questions had swirled up in Alex’s head.  The engineers had reported chemicals that indicated meth around the airstream. Drugs could explain the… he hated to use the trite saying.. failure to launch. Alex honestly didn’t see it. Not in the boy he’d known, and not in the man he saw now. But he had to ask, because it really would explain everything.

His blood pounded in his ears as Guerin stepped into his space, but he held strong. That macho, cowboy swagger didn’t intimidate him. Alex’s mind reeled as he tried to reconcile the angry, careless-looking cowboy who reeked of booze with the kid he remembered from school.  The boy who’d tried to jump in to protect him from Valenti and his father. The one who always had all the answers and a cute smirk in class. Alex’s body said it was the same person he’d given his heart to all those years ago. His chest ached like a wound that had scabbed over was being ripped open again. His heart screamed that this was his missing piece shoulder checking him and walking away. Alex’s brain didn’t understand it.  In the face of Michael’s suggestion that the Air Force needed new engineers, he’d felt stupid to ever think the problem was drugs. 

Alex had done recon before. He knew how to solve this problem.  He spent the rest of the reunion keeping Guerin in his peripheral vision. He’d carefully filed away all the details he saw, looking for patterns until his hip started to ache.  He needed to adjust his prosthetic to make sure it was aligned correctly and he didn’t want to do that in front of anyone. 

 

**Nostalgia is a bitch, huh?**

Alex had been watching him all night. Michael knew because he’d been watching Alex too.  He’d managed to not meet his eyes, but he’d watched over the waitress’s shoulder as they danced and tracked Alex’s movements around the room. Because he was watching, he’d seen Alex’s pained expression as he practically melted out the side door. For a guy with a crutch and a limp, he could definitely be stealthy if he wanted to. 

Michael set his drink down and slipped away out a different door. He’d been around this convention center a few times. He found Alex alone, prosthetic foot up on a bench with his pant leg pushed up tight around his knee. Michael waited in the hall as Alex fussed with his shoe and where the prosthetic met his leg before he finally pulled the denim back down. He stepped into the doorway as Alex looked up at his young self, a picture from their sophomore year, laughing and skateboarding.  

_ 'I thought for sure when I got back from Iraq I thought you’d be long gone.' _

_ 'Is that what you want?' _

_ 'We’re not kids anymore. What I want doesn’t matter _ .'

Michael felt the pain in Alex’s voice as he spoke. He knew he’d caused part of that, knew Alex’s father and the war had caused it too. That pain broke Michael’s heart open, the carefully wired up fences trampled under the desire to wipe away Alex’s pain and give him everything he’d ever wanted.  Michael looked up into Alex’s eyes and was sure he saw the same fear-laced desire he’d seen ten years ago in the UFO Emporium. Just like all those years ago, words failed him. He only knew stupid painful words that got in the way. To hell with words. 


End file.
